


New and Old

by EtoileGarden



Category: Queen's Thief - Fandom, The Queen's Thief, Thick as Thieves - Fandom
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Porn, attolia - Freeform, roa - Freeform, this is porn ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: A follow up from 'Spilled Remchik', after Costis and Kamet return to Attolia.(This is basically porn with a very vague plot)





	New and Old

Attolia’s palace was beautiful. The rooms luxurious, the food delightful, the weather seemingly always mild. I hadn’t drawn my own water for a bath for weeks, nor washed a single plate.  
I was completely, exhaustingly frustrated.

In our time in Roa, Costis and I were independent in our small house just outside the town walls. What food we didn’t grow or catch, we had to go buy with money we had earned, and then cook it ourselves. Although admittedly Costis did the majority of the cooking. We had a routine, that revolved around being there for each other. Costis would always wake earlier than me and get up to make breakfast, he would wake me up before he left for the day. After I had eaten I would set some grain to soak, or leave a ball of dough to rise while we were away working. In the evenings we would meet outside the walls of the town to walk back home together, and then while he cooked, I would tend to our garden. We would take turns cleaning up afterwards. Once a week he would draw water for our baths, heat it, heave our tub out. Once a week I would strip our bed linens, air the mattress, scent our pillows. 

While we bided our time in Attolia until a new plan was made up for us, our independence was a thing of the past.   
Costis still got up much earlier than me, but he would leave earlier than I wanted to wake as well so he would sneak around dressing and close the door quietly behind him. He was back with the guard, and I knew he enjoyed it, had missed it for the long while he had been away, first in the Empire and then in Roa. I didn’t begrudge him his happiness, but I missed his gentle touch being what woke me every morning, his kiss goodbye while my limbs were still loose with sleep.   
My breakfast was brought to my rooms, made by someone who I probably knew, but was also certainly not making it especially for me. I would spend all my day either with Relius and his new charge, or occasionally being called into meetings. Sometimes Eugenides would appear in my rooms and chat to me about nothing in particular, but I spent an awfully large amount of time with nothing to do. I would visit the kitchens, that was nice, but they are busy people. I would walk the gardens, that was always beautiful, and while I never got tired of the sights, I would get tired of the loneliness. I enjoyed the library, but that too, for all it’s grandeur, would leave me sighing into silence. 

Costis would more often than not, eat dinner with the guard if he had been on afternoon shifts or an evening shift. It would not do well for him to be so separate from his men, especially considering that he already slept away from the rest of them. I often ate dinner with the court, feeling awkward about it every time, no matter how many people happily chatted with me. I knew there was several at court who, even if they shook their heads at the Mede’s casual slavery, did not think that a past-slave ought to be eating with them. I never danced.   
I always left earlier than was really proper, but I prefered to get away from the hubbub, and if I was lucky, Costis would have returned to our rooms while I dined. I missed him. I knew he missed me too, but his sense of loyalty to the crown and to his work pulled him in too many directions, and I was unwilling to stretch him any further. 

I had been on my way to one of these dinners, after a long and boring day in which I had sat through several long winded meetings that my table mate at last night’s dinner had suggested I might be interested in. I would avoid sitting next to him again. I had just stepped down from a staircase when one of the men in Costis’ squad stopped me.   
“King-namer,” he says, and I turn to look at him. I think I have met all of Costis’ squad at least once but this one’s name eludes me. I nod politely at him.  
“Costis asked if I would drop you a message on your way to court,” he says, and I realise that he is standing on guard, rather than having chanced upon me. I was surprised, did not realise that I was so predictable that Costis would already know what route I would take in the evenings so as to send me a message on my way. I stood waiting for the message.   
“He asks that you don’t go to court this evening, because he has this shift off and will by now be back in your rooms.”   
I had often wondered if it caused consternation among the guard that Costis did not sleep down in the barracks with them, but instead up in the palace with me. It wasn’t the done thing for a guard by any means, and was probably an inconvenience to everybody but myself, but it was also something that I refused to budge on, and Costis had never suggested he sleep anywhere else. I knew he got flack for it though, even if he himself did not tell me the gossip, I overheard it at the long dinners by people who thought they were being subtle. Some of the gossip was that he was taking advantage of my servile nature, others said I was doing the taking advantage of. More still suggested that I had become rich through my serving of their king, and Costis benefited my wealth while I benefited his body.   
I did not even care about the change of this guard’s tone when he said it to me now though, my heart was too busy jumping and tugging my lips into a smile.   
I thank the guard profusely, and turn immediately on my heels and walk back up the stairs, going up them much faster than I had gone down.   
I had barely seen Costis all week. He had been gone every morning I’d woken, the mattress beside me already cool, and was often too tired for much conversation in the evenings once he’d returned. The king had been keeping him very busy, and I knew there was a lot happening, especially after the Empire had sent men to capture Costis, and I had killed Nahuseresh. I tried to keep out of the proceedings as much as possible, I felt I had played more than enough of my part. 

By the time I reached our rooms, I was a little out of breath, having pushed myself on all the stairs to get here. I paused outside our door to catch my breath a moment. If I walked in panting I knew Costis would tease me for coming running so fast.   
When I walk in it becomes apparent very quickly that he is not there, and all my excitement drops out of me. I am confused, curious about why the guard would have lied to me. Then worried instead. I half expected someone to jump out of a cupboard at me, whether as a prank or with murderous intentions, and I shrank back against the door.   
That is when I saw Costis’ cloak on the bed, and I exhaled breath I had not realised I was holding. Costis had been here, had changed out of his armour. I crossed the room to brush my fingers against the cloak as if touching it would somehow give me the answer to his whereabouts. Ridiculously, it did.   
Sitting on our bed covers next to the cloak was a hastily scrawled note on a slip of paper. Written in Costis’ neat but heavy hand was, 

K,   
I’ll be back soon.   
C x

It is a testament to how little we had seen of each other recently that the small scribbled x on his note filled my chest with warmth.   
I tucked the slip of paper into the back of my diary, then settled in the chair at my desk to wait for him. I tried to imagine where he was, why he hadn’t just told me last night to come back here rather than go to court, or left me a note in the morning evening. Evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, filling the rooms with a hazy warmth, and I was pleased to be sitting in this puddle of sunlight rather than in the crowded court table.   
I had just begun to become restless, when the door opened, and Costis finally appeared. Not wanting to seem overeager, I stayed in my chair, simply smiled when he walked in. He was carrying a covered tray in his hands, and positively beamed when he saw me. He deposited the tray on our low table, then crossed the room to kiss me.   
He smelled like garlic and sweat and I knew the odour would probably have put me off of embracing anyone else, but it only made me want to hold him all the more.   
“Where have you been?” I ask, swiveling on my chair so that I can grip onto him better. “I have been sitting here counting the minutes while I waited for you.”   
Costis steps round so he is standing between my knees.   
“I was in the kitchens,” he says, “Being told off every few seconds by the cooks.” He did not sound at all chagrined, rather he almost seemed quite proud of this. I held him firmly by the hips, leaning back against my chair as I smiled up at him.   
“What were you doing to those poor cooks?” I ask him, teasing lightly, “You are too big, you would have crowded them all.” 

Costis lifts one arm to flex, and I laugh at him. Then he nods over at the tray he had come in with, which I had managed to forget within seconds after he touched my face.   
“I know we haven’t had much time together in the last few weeks,” he says, and the mirth is gone from his face. “So I wanted to make it up to you by cooking for you tonight.” 

It is so sweet that my stomach aches. I could tug him straight down into my lap right now (if I didn’t think that would crush me) and kiss him until he carried me to bed. Instead I say,   
“Oh I see, so to make it up to me you thought that I would like to forgo the delicious food from the kitchen’s professional chefs, and eat some farmers meal?”   
He is completely unfazed, only smiles at me all the more and nods. “Yes, that is exactly what I thought you would like,” he tells me, and my insides are entirely warmth now.   
I cannot tell him how much I appreciate this, because I think if I try I will just sound stupid, so instead I do tug at him until he bends down to let me kiss him. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he curls his hands round my upper thighs, and lifts me easily in his arms with my legs round his waist.   
I am torn. I very much would like to tell him to just take me to bed right now and kiss me until I cannot breathe, but -   
“The food will go cold,” he mumbles into my neck, “I do not mind eating it cold if you don’t.”

He’s holding me up with one arm, his other hand is tugging at my clothes, untucking my tunic. I think. We have plenty of time, at least I assume we do. I do want to eat what he has cooked for me while it’s still warm, he is actually a very good cook despite my remarks, and it deserves to be eaten fresh. Reluctantly I shake my head, open my mouth to tell him we should eat, but gasp instead at the way he is touching me. I have definitely been touch deprived, I tell myself firmly, to be already so wanting. I lean in and kiss him hard.  
“Let’s eat,” I say, and he grumbles against my lips.   
“I could eat you,” he suggests, and it is very much a good suggestion, but I raise my eyebrows at him and he concedes. He does not put me down immediately though, he carries me over to the table to deposit me on one of the floor cushions by the table before kneeling down next to me. 

He reveals the food, and I am very glad that I am not with the court eating their fancy roasts.  
He has made us spanakopita, a leafy salad on the side, and herb and garlic crusted bread. I am impressed, and I think he must have enjoyed himself. He does not usually get to cook with such nice ingredients.

I think back to the first times he had cooked for me, sandy caggi. This was certainly an upgrade.   
I sit comfortably leaning against his side while he serves us. There’s a jug of sweet watered wine as well, so I pour that and he smiles down at me over his shoulder.   
I wait until my mouth is full and so is his before I say, “I’ve missed you.” 

Before we are finished eating I am already feeling mournful about the eventual end of the night, when Costis will leave again and I’ll be alone. I reprimand myself for staring past what is currently in front of me, and renew my attentions to my happiness. 

“Who was your friend?” I ask him, “And how did you know exactly where to leave a message for me?”   
Costis laughs, “This is a little embarrassing,” he tells me, “But I wasn’t sure which direction you would be coming from, so I simply asked several of my friends at various intersections I thought you may pass to give you the message if they saw you. They think I am love-sick and thought it very funny. Where were you when they told you?” 

I tell him and he pauses a moment to think, “I think that would have been Tanet, or, no, no that would be Kalim. I think you met him a few weeks ago in passing.”  
I probably did, but if the names ring any bells, I’m not sure in which room they are ringing.

Throughout the meal, Costis has kept his hands on me- either on my knee or the small of my back, but as we get to the dregs of the food, his hands start to wander more. He steals a bit of pastry off of my plate with one hand, and slides the other up my thigh.   
He is telling me about his day, asking me about mine as if his fingers aren’t slowly slipping down the inside of my leg and then up to cup my groin.   
I tell him about the boring meetings, he laughs at me for taking the advice of someone so notoriously staid. “You’d have been better off listening to the birds,” he tells me, squeezing me through the fabric of my pants.   
“Well it at least occupied me for a good portion of the morning,” I tell him, “I’m a little at a loss of what to do with all my free time here.”   
If Costis had more free time, I would not have been at a loss. He is rubbing me almost absentmindedly as he takes a mouthful of wine, and shakes his head.   
“You could take up some sort of hobby,” he suggests unhelpfully, “Like teasing Teleus. I have heard from the king that it is very rewarding.” I think his time around both my sniping tongue, and the king’s jibing one has gotten to him.   
“I could. Or I could follow the king around like a grumpy shadow until he hurries up and agrees to give us a solid answer on what happens next for us,” I suggest, well aware that the king was both busy, and uneager to send Costis away again until he could think of somewhere safer than his own house.   
“Having been the king’s grumpy shadow in the past,” Costis says, “I think you would find it more trouble than it’s worth, he likes to take unhelpful shortcuts when he thinks his followers has an agenda he doesn’t want to address.”   
Costis has told me often of the kings misadventures, and I can very easily imagine myself squinting angrily after an escaping Eugenides as he climbs a turret to avoid my nudging.   
I wonder how long Costis plans on continuing to talk to me about nothing while he rubs me off.   
I want him to use his mouth for something else.   
I think that I can wait for him to decide this himself, or I can just tell him, so I do.   
He smiles at me, and even now, after two years together, and with his hand on my cock, he’s flushing.   
“Where do you want my mouth?” He asks, shifting until he is facing me, his hands on my hips. He leans forward to press a kiss to my neck, “Here?” he asks, then tugs at my shirt so he can slide his mouth down to my collarbone and bites it. “Here?”  
He pushes at me gently until I unfold myself and shuffle backwards to lie on the cushions, shifting comfortably under him as he moves to sit on my upper thighs. Most of his weight is in his knees rather than on me, and I roll my eyes at his thoughtfulness. He is undoing my shirt and lifting it just enough that he can see my stomach. He places a warm hand flat on my skin, then shifts again so he can kiss just above my hip bone. He peppers my skin with a trail of kisses down to the buttons of my trousers then pauses to look up at me. His face is too much mischief, even with the pink of his cheeks. I reach down to fumble with my buttons but he stops me swiftly. Catches my hand then brings it to his face to kiss my palm before sucking my middle finger into his mouth.   
I shut my eyes, move my hips up against him, exhale. I open my eyes again when he releases my hand and stretches over me so he can kiss me hard on the lips. “Here?” he says again before kissing me more.   
Yes, I think, yes, absolutely there, but also - my thoughts are derailed as he grinds his hips against mine. He is yanking at my shirt, pulls away from kissing me just long enough to pull it over my head, kisses me long and hard, then drops down to kiss my chest. 

We hadn’t done this much at all since coming back to Attolia - after what had happened with Nahuseresh in Roa, I had been too wary for it to be good for either of us. I always felt guilty, depriving Costis, he wasn’t the one that had made me so suspicious and anxious about being touched, but it was him who got the backlash. When I voiced my concerns after a week of coming to bed clothed, he waved my worries away. He had told me that he was not deprived, was perfectly content to lie next to me and nothing more. I had misjudged myself a few days after that conversation, not quite believing that Costis was not frustrated at my lack of intimacy. I had waited until he had come to bed one night, then climbed on top of him, intent on showing him that I was fine, and then immediately broken down. It must have been very confusing I imagine, coming to bed for your lover to- in the same swift move- seduce you and then sob on you.   
He had taken it very well, had held me in his arms and repeated over and over that of course he wanted me, but he wanted me feeling safe first. Thank the gods he was not in the barracks - had I attempted that terrible maneuver there I was sure he wouldn’t have heard the end of it for weeks. It would certainly have added an interesting spin to the gossip.  
It had taken me longer than I was happy about, but with Costis showing no signs of rushing me, I had slowly felt comfortable with more than light kissing, and then more still.   
Still, with our limited time together since arriving in Attolia we had not done much more than wrapping our hands around each others cocks and panting into each others mouths before we went to sleep, Costis exhausted. 

He is pinching my nipple firmly with one hand, his other hand is palming me steadily over my trousers, his mouth leaving hot damp patches low on my stomach. He speaks against my skin, and my stomach muscles tense with anticipation.   
“Here?” he asks again, and I nod and shiver and lift my hand to place on his head and guide him down further until his mouth is hot against my crotch.   
“There,” I say, not much more than a whisper.   
He opens his mouth on the damp fabric - I am going to have to wash these trousers thoroughly- and mouths at my steadily hardening cock.   
I am over sensitive, both emotionally and physically, and I press myself hard against the cushion I am lying on to stop myself from jerking against his lips.   
My hands are twisting in his hair, pulling tightly the way I know he likes it, and he grunts against my cock, undoes my buttons, sits up so he can pull my trousers off.   
When he leans back down, one hand cupping my arse, the other cupping my balls, his mouth on my shaft, I put my hands back in his hair.   
He sucks me until every breath I take is a gasp, and I know I am pulling strands of his hair out by the roots. I pull him up away from my cock before I can cum, tug him up until he’s sprawled against my body, until his wet mouth is on mine and I can taste myself on his tongue. He’s rubbing himself against me, my cock trapped under him, leaving smears of wetness on his clothing.   
I pull and tug at him until he rolls and I am on top of him, holding him down with my weight.   
I kiss him more until he moans softly into my mouth, then sit up on his hips, feeling him hard under me, and slowly, so my hands do not shake, start undoing his shirt buttons.   
He lies underneath me, his hands gripping my hips, his hips moving slightly every time I lean forwards to kiss skin that I am revealing button by button. When his shirt is open entirely, I sit back and stare at him until his flushed face reddens more.   
“What?” he asks, and I shake my head at him, forever in awe of his body.   
“Take me to bed,” I tell him, “And take off your trousers.”   
He sits up, easily even with me sitting on him, then stands, taking me with him, my legs wrapping again around his waist, thighs clenched tight.   
He puts me down on our bed, then stands back to take his trousers off while I wriggle backwards until I am against the headboard. He climbs onto the bed after me, reaches for me and I meet him with my mouth. I grip him hard, my fingers digging into his back, his cock rubbing against my stomach. I want too many things, I can’t achieve them all with only two hands. I tip my head back so Costis can suck at my neck, and pant heavily at the high ceiling.   
“I want you,” I gasp out, “I want you.”   
Costis replies with an approving mumble, his mouth busy making its way down my neck, down my chest, down my stomach. I watch him with heavy lidded eyes, then say, “Lie down.”

He shifts so he can bring his legs round in front of him rather than lying back down on them, then lies back, propping himself up on his elbows to watch me as I settle in between his legs.   
I prefer being on top.He likes it both ways, but I am more comfortable on top, and in bed he is eager to please.   
I press my lips to his stomach, feel it quiver at my touch.   
“Ask me,” I command, and watch as he drops his head back so it disappears behind his shoulders.   
“Kamet,” he says, I can see his pulse beating fast in his neck, “my love, fuck me.”   
I consider pointing out that that was not a question, but he lifts his head again to look at me, “I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he says, “Hoping for it.”   
I ask if he had thought about it enough that he’d been hard while on guard, and he licks his lips, nods.   
I’m sure the captain would not have been pleased to hear that his guards were sometimes so distracted, not that I would tell him. 

I get off of the bed to fetch the vial of oil in the drawers by the bed. When I return, he spreads his legs further apart and I sit between them. I slick my fingers carefully, then press against him. He exhales silently, eyes shut, then relaxes and I push a finger in with learned precision. Stretching, I reach to kiss him, and he shifts closer on his elbows to meet me. I keep kissing him as I slip my next finger in and I feel him tense then moan into my mouth.   
I continue like this until he drops his head back to breathe, and I focus my efforts on stretching him open, adding a third finger and eliciting another moan.   
“Gods, Kamet,” his voice is already strangled, “More-”  
I shift my weight so I can use my other hand to grip tightly round his cock. He’s dropped his elbows down so he’s lying flat on his back, his head tipped back still, his hands gripping the blankets around us. I am sitting in between his raised knees, thinking of how much I want to be in him, how much he wants me in him.   
He’s pressing back against my fingers now, hips getting into rhythm and I remove my hand, reach for the oil again. He lifts his hips up, his weight in his feet as I get onto my knees, applying oil to my cock judiciously. 

From this angle I can see him very well, see him biting his lower lip, see his chest shudder with suppressed breath.   
“Do you want this?” I ask. I know the answer, but I always ask, want to hear Costis tell me again and again and again.   
“Yes,” he says, “Yes, Kamet, please-”   
I am in love with how he says my name when he’s needy.   
I push into him.   
I had expected, before we started sleeping together, that I would be the more vocal in bed, but Costis is truly eloquent in his half cut off expletives and hushed praise.   
His hips snap against me, and I am the one moaning now.   
I steady myself, my hands holding his thighs which shake slightly beneath my fingers with the effort of holding himself up while I fuck him.   
I move slowly, wanting it to last as long as possible, knowing that if I rush for pleasure I will be undone. Costis has no such qualms, he moves steadily, thrusting against me, and I squeeze his thighs, inhale roughly -   
“Wait,” I say, he stops immediately and that in itself is a rush as well, the instant compliance. “Slow down,” I tell him, “Or I’ll be done too soon.”  
He laughs at me, not unkindly, quite breathless, and lets me set the pace.  
Costis may know what he wants, but I know how to make him want more, make him stare at me as if I am a miracle, make him beg me for more.   
I shift my weight so I can lean forwards, change my angle inside him, reach for his waist. I stroke my hands down his torso, and he lifts a hand to grab at mine, to hold it tight. 

With my free hand, I reach down to take his cock, rubbing it as smoothly as I can while rocking so firmly into him. He’s twisting his neck, pressing his face into the bed, breathing heavily and I love it. I have always been proud of my skilled hands, usually of their capacity at calligraphy, but now more than ever for their proficiency in causing Costis to writhe.   
He lets go of my hand so he can grab at the blankets again, holding himself steady against my movements and I resume stroking, up his chest.   
I pause at his nipples, pinch them until they are hard and sensitive, then lean forward to kiss them. I catch them with my teeth and he jerks, tightens all around me, lifts his hand to cup my face.   
I cannot quite reach his mouth with mine while I am inside him, but I can see how much he wants me to kiss him. He’s lifted his head so he can watch me, the movement tightening his stomach muscles as he holds himself up before propping himself back up on his elbows.   
He strains forwards until he can reach me and I kiss him hard, all teeth and tongue.   
My breath is ragged as I pull away from the kiss, I can already feel my insides beginning to clench and I will myself to continue. I want him to cum before me, want to feel him orgasm around me, want to watch his face twist with pleasure.   
I slow my thrusts, quicken my hand on him, stroking his cock firmly, sliding my thumb across the tip of it until he is begging me.   
He says, “Oh fu- oh fucking- oh, oh Kamet, please, gods please-” 

He has sweat beading on his forehead, sweat making his chest sheen, my fingers are messy with his pre-cum.   
His legs are shaking harder and I use one hand to steady him, holding him as well as I can in case he collapses.   
His whole body stills before he orgasms, his eyes flicker open and shut and then he is cumming onto his stomach, into my hand, spasming round my cock, crying out with a voice so rough the word is almost indistinguishable, but I know it is my name.   
I let go of his cock so I can hold him up as I thrust into him still, barely making it more than two strokes before I orgasm still inside him, swallowing my own cry as I do.   
His head is hanging over the end of the bed, and his eyes are closed. His limbs are relaxed, body soft against mine as I pull myself up to lie alongside him, tuck myself under his arm, kiss his chest. Our breathing is heavy, the only noise in the room. 

When he catches his breath, he sits up, leans down to kiss me so softly in comparison to our last kiss. Gets off of the damp bed to grab a cloth, and wipes himself down before coming back to me. He crawls back onto the bed beside me, wipes me clean as well, then lies flush against me to gather me in his sweat damp arms.   
“Gods,” he says, his voice almost reverent, “I think I ought to leave the guard so we can do this more often.”   
“And what of your honour to uphold?” I tease him, and he looks down at me.   
“I have better things to uphold,” he replies, his meaning unavoidable and I find my smile shy.   
“I do miss you,” I tell him honestly, “From the moment I wake alone in the morning to the second you come back,” I kiss him, barely having to move at all we are so close together. “But if you were to leave the guard you would be insufferably bored and I can’t spend all day fucking you.” 

Our foreheads are tipped together and I have to cross my eyes to look at his face. He’s smiling softly.   
“So, so, so,” he agrees, “But I know you are lonely, my love, so tell me what I can do.”   
There is nothing he can do, I think, I just have to learn to not be selfish with him. Just because I am at a loss of what to do with my time here now that I don’t have a set job doesn’t mean I ought to begrudge him for his work.   
“Wake me before you leave in the morning,” I tell him, “Then I won’t miss you as much.”   
He kisses me, says, “You hate what time of the morning I get up.”   
“So wake me, kiss me, let me go back to sleep. I will not mind the hour if I don’t have to get out of bed.”   
“I will then,” he says, then, “I am sure that if you asked, the king or Relius could find you something more interesting to do with your time.”

I had been avoiding asking them, mostly because I wasn’t sure if and when the king would suggest I move elsewhere, and I didn’t want to leave another job I enjoyed.   
Maybe though, it would be worth it. Maybe the king would have me stay here. Maybe with his kingdom adoring him, with Nahuseresh dead, maybe he was no longer worried of how safe it would be for us in the capital. I knew he would prefer to have Costis here. 

“Maybe I will ask,” I say, then pull out of Costis’ arms to sit up and stretch.   
He lies there, looking content and soft, smiling up at me, altogether too beautiful for his own good. I wanted to ravish him again already. Instead, I get off of the bed and gather up our hastily dropped clothing to put in the basket by the bathroom. Costis watches me a moment, I know he is looking at my behind, then gets up to clear our table back onto the tray he’d brought the food on. 

I am glad that he likes to keep our rooms tidy as well, because I think that if he left it to me to tidy I would get extremely grumpy far too often. I lean against the wall, watch him move, my mind nothing but soft thoughts. I had never thought my mind possible of holding nothing but soft thoughts, of putting aside its analytical side long enough to relax at the sight of Costis’ strong back. 

He turns to see me staring, and grins at me, holds up our two goblets which he has refilled with wine.   
“Come lie in bed with me,” he suggests, “And drink wine, and kiss me.”   
Of course I oblige.


End file.
